


Ear-resistible

by shireness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Easter, Easter Egg Hunt, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 01:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18539314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shireness/pseuds/shireness
Summary: Emma may be out the night before Easter as a favor to Mary Margaret, but she didn't expect to see Killian Jones in the center of town. After midnight. In a rabbit suit.





	Ear-resistible

**Author's Note:**

> Happy (early) Easter! This is going up a day early - both because I have time now, and because the events of this fic happen the night before Easter. It's a good enough excuse.
> 
> Loosely based on an Easter episode of the mid-90's BBC comedy "The Vicar of Dibley", of all things. Except no one dies. It's just a bunch of seasonal fluff. Thanks to @snidgetsafan for beta-ing this nonsense.
> 
> Enjoy, and have a happy Sunday!

Storybrooke, Maine has always been a little too good to be true.

After all, there isn’t really a place with an annual candle-based festival, or one where an entire town takes a lonely orphan girl under their collective wing, or one with a massive town-wide Easter egg hunt. It’s absurd. That place can’t exist.

And yet, somehow, Storybrooke does.

Emma Swan even knows the person who dresses as the Easter Bunny every year (because that’s exactly the kind of town Storybrooke is) - a lovely young lady named Mary Margaret Nolan, local fifth grade teacher and daughter of the late Leo Blanchard, the former mayor who’d originated this tradition in the first place. Mary Margaret continuing her father’s legacy, rabbit costume and all, is the least shocking of all of this - something about continuity and family tradition and other sentiments that belong in a friggin’ Hallmark movie. After all, this is Storybrooke, the only town in the world where all of this seems natural.

Mary Margaret Nolan also happens to be Emma Swan’s best friend, which is how she gets pulled into this whole mess in the first place.

“I don’t know what happened, but I’ve caught some sort of stomach bug,” she’d explained to Emma over the phone. She’d certainly sounded miserable, her voice echoing around the bathroom where undoubtedly she’d still been camped. That’s probably why Emma had agreed when Mary Margaret had begged Emma to do her a huge favor.

Unfortunately, that favor had been to dress up as the goddamn Easter Bunny to hide eggs around town.

(Personally, Emma thinks insisting she wear a costume is stupid, but Mary Margaret had been insistent.

“What if one of the kids sees you?” she’d asked, like there’d actually be school kids peeking out their windows at half past midnight. Lucky for Mary Margaret, one of the few guilt trips that still works on Emma is the prospect of disappointed kids.)

She feels ridiculous, honestly. Blatantly ridiculous. If Mary Margaret has a bug, there’s no way Emma is putting on her rabbit suit, so Emma had taken things into her own hands. Rabbit footie pajamas complete with fluffy tail and some ears on a headband is close enough, right? Especially since she’s painted whiskers and teeth on her face? Mary Margaret’s very fancy and expensive rabbit suit doubtless wouldn’t have fit anyways, since Emma is a good several inches taller. Hey, if she has to do this insane thing, at least she’s going to be comfortable.

Hiding eggs is kinda fun, Emma has to admit. It’s a bit of fun she never really got as a kid, only seeing it on TV and wishing she could do that too. She’d already been 15 by the time the Nolans had taken her in, eventually for good, and Emma had already been too old and full of teenage attitude to take part in the hunt herself, even if the residents of Storybrooke - who adopted her nearly as much as Ruth and Robert and David had - doubtless would have cheered her on if she had. It’s fun, finding clever little places to stash eggs for the older kids and easier spots that will make the littler ones _feel_ clever, all the while hearing the rattle of coins and candy inside the plastic.

Sure, there’s a few eggs in spots Emma doesn’t remember leaving anything, but it’s half past midnight. It’s easy enough to write that off as tiredness and simple forgetfulness. Since the eggs are fake, Emma doesn’t need to keep a map of where she hides things for later. She’s the only one out doing this, anyways, and the eggs don’t look like they’ve been left outside for a year; there’s no reason to think she’s not the one who hid them.

That makes it all the more shocking to look across the town square and see another figure in full rabbit costume with a wagon full of eggs.

“What the…” she mutters, squinting as if it could somehow make the sight make sense.

Meanwhile, the other rabbit takes off their head piece - one of those massive mascot-type deals. “Swan?” they call in an accented male voice, before moving closer into her clear line of sight.

Oh _shit_. She knows exactly who it is: Killian Jones, local bartender and object of her lust (and possible love). And the last person Emma wants to see facing her in a rabbit suit.

Emma not wanting to see Jones has nothing to do with her own feelings; she’s willing to admit, at least to herself, that she likes Jones one hell of a lot, likes his smile and his sense of humor and that delicious accent that sends shivers chasing down her spine, even if all three are usually directed at other people. There’s been an attraction, at least on her part, ever since he moved to Storybrooke almost two and a half years ago now. No, the problem is that _Jones_ doesn’t like _her_ , and Emma can’t figure out why.

She’d thought it was some kind of jealousy at first, what with the way she catches him glaring whenever she interacts with other men in the bar, but it’s more than that. If she leans over the bar to try and talk to him over the noise, he groans. If they see each other in public, he offers only the briefest pleasantries before heading in the opposite direction as quickly as possible. Honestly, he seems disdainful of everything about her. The heart wants what the heart wants, though, and Emma’s never been able to quash her attraction to Killian Jones, God help her.

“What are you doing here, lass?” he asks as he approaches until he’s close enough for Emma to reach out and touch his mascot suit if she wanted too. Did Storybrooke High change its team from the Knights to the… Demon Rabbits or something? She doesn’t follow high school sports close enough to remember; all she knows is that the enormous rabbit head under Killian’s arm is freaking her out with its dead eyes and cartoonish teeth.

“What do you think I’m doing out here?” Emma shoots back, probably harsher than is needed in the situation. Maybe this is why she’s still single. “I’m hiding Easter eggs. Jesus Christ, where did you get that awful costume?”

“No,” he replies slowly, gesturing towards his ridiculous wagon. “ _I’m_ the one hiding Easter eggs. And technically, Swan, it’s already Easter, it seems pretty bold to be taking the Lord’s name in vain on Easter. But, for the record, Belle lent it to me from the drama department. The high school put on a production of _Harvey_ last year, don’t you remember?”

“Shut up,” she mumbles. The know-it-all attitude definitely isn’t helping any of this… even if Emma hadn’t remembered that play. Musical? Whatever. “Okay, well, I don’t know why you’d be hiding eggs still, because Mary Margaret asked _me_ to take over since she’s sick.” Emma’s getting a bit defensive about this, but she can’t actually bring herself to care.

“And David asked _me_ for the same reason. I don’t know why you’re arguing with me about this, Swan.”

“Because you’re not supposed to be here!” she all but explodes, before reigning her emotions back in. It’s just a weird misunderstanding; there’s no reason to get mad at Killian for something that’s not his fault. Probably. “Look, just… I don’t want to be in your way, just as much as you don’t want me in your way, so you take the North end and I’ll hide stuff on the South end. Everything gets covered and you won’t have to deal with me. Fine by you?”

“That seems a bit harsh,” Killian mumbles back. Notably, he doesn’t answer her question, which Emma tries not to be pissed about. God, this man some days.

“What, the divide and conquer plan? Not sure what you’d find harsh about that.”

“No, the part where you seem to think I’m bothered by you.”

“Look, you don’t have to pretend, Killian. I know you don’t like me, and it’s fine, I’m a big girl, we’ll just stay out of each other’s hair —”

“What makes you think I don’t like you?” To his credit, Killian does look genuinely confused. That almost pisses Emma off more - this _who, me?_ act that he’s apparently decided to put on.

“Oh please. I’d have to be blind not to see the glares and hear the groans and whatever. I’m not an idiot, I can put two and two together.”

“It’s not what you think,” Killian argues - weakly, in Emma’s opinion - turning red to his very ears.

“You go out of your way to avoid me,” she deadpans.

“Yeah, but it’s not because I don’t _like_ you, it’s because…” Killian trails off for a moment, before muttering something unintelligible.

“I didn’t understand a single word of that,” Emma comments dryly, crossing her arms. “Try again.”

Killian sighs heavily. “Look, I really like you, alright?”

“No you don’t.” It’s a stupid thing to say, considering that he literally just told her so (and turned adorably red doing it), but it’s Emma’s knee-jerk reaction. There’s no way, right?

He scratches behind his ear - a sign Emma’s learned means he’s uncomfortable or embarrassed. Could he actually be serious? “Aye, I really do. Veering rather alarmingly towards the territory of “smitten”, if I’m quite honest.”

“But you’re always so... _disapproving_ ,” she tries to reason. “If you like me so much, why all the glaring and the groaning?”

“When do I groan?”

“Usually when I’m leaning against the bar, though I can probably come up with other examples.”

Killian laughs. It’s very much unexpected. “You’d groan too, Swan, if a lady you fancied had a habit of leaning down right in front of you and perfectly displaying all her lovely undergarments. I’m just a man, love, and that lacy black number does things to me.”

Oh. _Oh._ Well, she supposes that makes enough sense. Still… “Well, what about everything else? You go out of your way to avoid me, don’t pretend you don’t.”

He sighs again, a frustrated sound this time. Maybe a little sad too. “I know it doesn’t make much sense. And believe me, it wasn’t at all for lack of want. But you’re my best friend’s little sister,” he shrugs. “David can be protective, not that I blame him. I’m sure I’d be the same if I had a younger sister. But the fact remains that I’m not too keen on him cutting my balls off over this, especially since it’s so one-sided.”

That gives Emma pause for a moment. “Wait, _one-sided_?” she demands. “Is that what you think this is?”

“Aye,” he says, hanging his head. Rejection tinges his tone - needlessly, really, but he’s not picking up one her cues in the least. “Which is fine, Swan, I’m a grown lad and my feelings are my own. I’m not asking… that is, I’d never assume you felt the same, and nothing needs to change —”

“Whoa, hold on, that’s not —” Emma cuts herself off to collect her own thoughts, running her hands along her scalp in an anxious gesture. It’s been an absolute 180 in the past few minutes where her perception of their relationship is concerned, and she feels the need to take a few moments to try and recenter herself, collect her bearings. “Fuck,” she grumbles, “this is not how I imagined this going at all.”

“How you imagined what, love?” Confusion still colors his face; that just won’t do. She’s making a total hash of this - though she’d argue that that’s kind of on him as well - but maybe there’s still a way to redeem it. It’s about the destination, not the journey, right?

(She’s pretty sure that’s not how the saying goes, but she also doesn’t care anymore.)

So she kisses him, reaches across and hauls Killian down to meet her mouth by the front of the ridiculous vest his stupid rabbit costume is wearing. It’s the only redeeming factor of the whole thing, allowing her some form of leverage.

The kiss isn’t a gentle thing. Somehow, in her mind, Emma always imagined sweeping instrumentals as her and Killian’s lips brushed, hands stealing tentatively into hair and across cheeks. This is… not that. There’s a lot of tongue and a bit of teeth (mostly on her part) and honestly, the word she’s looking for to describe this is probably closest to _devour_ . After waiting _so goddamn long_ there just doesn’t seem to be a point in taking it slow; instead, she’d rather try to make up for every missed second, all at once. Not that Killian seems opposed to it. Rather, he seems determined to pull Emma as close as humanly possible, like if she’s just plastered tight enough to his front he can feel her through his ridiculous bulky rabbit suit.

Eventually, the franticness starts to settle into something easier, tongues giving way to lips, nipping giving way to sucking. They’ve finally perfected the angle too, noses just barely brushing as their mouths meet. Emma’s hands have settled on his chest, faux-furred as it is, and Killian’s have begun to creep down from her hips towards her ass. After his talk about being tormented by the sightline down her shirt, Emma would have figured he was a boob man, but hey, she’s not opposed to this development either…

Until he reaches the stupid fluffball on the seat of her pants and pulls.

Emma jerks back at that. “Did you just tweak my tail?” she demands, staring at him incredulously.

“Couldn’t help myself, love,” he teases, dropping a little kiss on her nose. “You make a bloody cute Easter Bunny.”

“Oh my God, file that under ‘things I never want to hear again’,” Emma groans, but she’s smiling too. It’s hard not to, now that she gets to enjoy his playful side. “C’mon, we’ve got to finish hiding these eggs… but maybe you can come back to my burrow afterwards.” She even throws in a wink for good measure, now that there’s no reason they can’t have a little fun.

“I’m holding you to that, love,” he says, crossing back to his wagon as Emma collects her own fabric grocery sack full of eggs. Once they’re both collected again, his terrifying rabbit head perched in the wagon’s bucket, Killian offers his free pawto her. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, alright.”

They’ve barely started walking again before the realization hits Emma, making her groan.

“What is it, love?” Killian asks, his voice full of concern.

“Nothing to worry about, not really,” she quickly clarified. “I just realized… if this is Mary Margaret and David’s idea of a set up, I’m going to kill them.”

Killian laughs uproariously at that, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Ah, well, all’s well that ends well, right?”

(As it turns out, no one really believes Mary Margaret when she tries to claim that this is _exactly_ what she had planned all along. Distraction induced by morning sickness is much more believable, after all, than setting up two people to fall in love as the Easter Bunnies.)

(Emma and Killian are a little too busy doing some _other things_ like rabbits to care too much.)

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on tumblr - I'm @shireness-says. Come let me know what you think.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it!


End file.
